Hi, thanks for all your reviews and kind comments. Hope this isn't too short but I need to bridge the gap between H and E's first and second encounter. Now, a question. Am I being too soft on the sex? Please let me know what you think about that and the story in general!
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Listening to the boy sleep beside him Edward marvelled at the raw power that rippled off the boy in waves of light. Edward had never imagined a lover with whom he had no control, no need to hold back and protect his mate. He supposed that if Bella had been turned it would have been possible but to have a living, breathing, warm body dominate and hold him captive had been well...captivating. What happened now? He thought. It hadn't seemed as though this was a regular occurrence for this boy, the sex or the closeness. Edward decided that this boy would need to be alone to process the night's experience. Much as he hated to leave this amazing being he gently lifted himself from under the hot, heavy arm that was flung over him. He kissed the boy lightly across his forehead and felt with his cool lips a jagged scar. He had a history. And from the pent up explosion of last night, Edward guessed his history was colourful. Maybe as colourful as Edward's own. He noticed with a wry smile the mess his clothes were now in. Linen isn't what you want to wear for hot, unexpected sex and lying under the sleeping boy hadn't helped either. Arranging himself as best he could Edward prepared himself for what he was sure Emmet would call 'the walk of shame'.
The young man on reception raised his eyebrows at the dishevelled but gorgeous young man striding confidently through the hotel lobby. Edward smiled in return. He felt happy. It was not an emotion he had expected or looked for. Would he see the boy again? Edward could not imagine that he wouldn't. How could he not seek out this amazing creature? He wanted to know him, inside and out. His smile widened at the thought and the hotel doorman stood astonished at the dazzling man who swung through the doors and out into the growing dawn.
Harry stirred and felt the aching muscles of his legs with confusion and then he sat bolt upright in his bed. The room showed no sign of disturbance apart from the ripped and ragged bedding. He stretched feeling his body's gentle protest at the movement. His t shirt and shorts stuck to him and twisted around him. The room smelt of a body other than his own. The physical evidence pointed to the reality of the events of the evening but Harry couldn't begin to believe that it had all been real. It wasn't that he had had explosive, dynamic and amazing sex with the young man. After all his troubles in life issues of gender and sexuality seemed to Harry petty and trivial. But what was the young man who had aroused such strong and irrefutable emotions in him? His body had been cold and hard; Harry remembered feeling his magic rise around him at the memory. His magic reminded him of the strong feelings he had experienced in the old house. The dramatic rise of longing and sorrow. They young man of last night was the owner of those emotions. Harry had no doubt about it. But what was he? Not a wizard even though the feelings had been as strong and powerful as anything Harry had experienced. Maybe a shower would make things make more sense.
As he dressed, now refreshed and clean, Harry decided that he had to go back to the house. He considered phoning Ron or Hermione, just to hear their voices and remind himself of who he whole experience was taking on a dream like quality but as he looked at the bed and the shredded sheets he smiled to himself and decided that he liked this dream, if a dream it was.
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The house felt more welcoming than it had the day before. This, more than anything, convinced Harry of the connection he had felt between this place and his mysterious visitor the back door still had the hole he had made and was it his imagination or had the path to the back of the house been cleared? Without bothering with light this time Harry confidently found his way into the room where the music had captivated him the day before. Nothing in the room was changed. The stereo sat silent and the generator was switched off this time. Maybe the owner was gone Harry started at this thought. But surely no one would leave these things if they were his only belongings? He mused. Hunting for clues Harry sifted through the CDs. Music from different decades kept neatly in date order were packed tightly in the box. It made Harry wonder what had made him pick out the CD the day before. Had it been lying out? No he remembered prising the smooth case from among its fellows. He looked down at his hands, long and tapering fingers with short nails. He flexed them as the memories of holding down and caressing that cold hard body flooded his mind. His magic swirled out from him, feeling out into the room. Harry shook himself and called it back to him. Not now, he needed to feel some control over this situation he had stumbled into. Taking from his pocket a small notepad and pen he wrote the name of a small bar in the city and a time. He signed the note 'Harry'. He propped the note on the stereo where the owner was sure to see it. He put the paper and pen back into his pocket and left.
Edward heard the young man's approach long before he reached the path that Edward had hastily cleared on his return from the hotel. Edward turned off the stereo and the generator. He felt embarrassed as he did so, was he hiding the fact that, since he had returned that morning he had played 'Claire De Lune' over and over again, imagining the strange boy's hands on him? The boy came into the room as Edward hid in the spot he had used the day before. He watched as the delicate hands, he shuddered involuntarily at the memory of them, stroked along the spines of the CDs in the box. Edward couldn't read what the note said from his distance across the room but as soon as the room was empty he rushed to the stereo and picked up the intriguing piece of paper. He understood the dangerous implication of this arranged meeting. They would have to talk, maybe the whole magical experience would be reduced to ashes, mere physicality but his soul trembled that now he knew his name. Harry.
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